As I wrote a few days ago, I haven’t yet experienced the loss of a close family member. But this morning I watched an episode of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo in which the house being tidied belonged to a woman whose husband of 40 years had died nine months prior, so thoughts of loss and grief have been top of my mind.
The woman in the show was determined to make the physical reminders of her beloved husband more deliberate, by reducing the sheer amount and focusing on what truly – as Marie puts it – sparked joy. But when every item is a memory, how do you decide which parts of a person’s life to deliberately remember and which to allow yourself to forget?
Kimmo’s game remembers a grandmother who lived for 99 years, through a civil war, a world war, and a series of Sundays spent with her grandchild. Kimmo’s game represents one of these Sundays, a child and their grandparent sat across from each other in a room full of the kinds of objects Marie Kondo might gently instruct a person to hold in their hands to see if they spark joy.
A clock ticks, the universal sign for passing time, and gradually the objects begin to lose their colour. You can bring them back to vibrancy with a click, but you cannot keep up with them all, and eventually nothing remains except these two people, slowly fading until they too are gone.